Civil Wars Don't Scare Me
by sexycereal
Summary: AU within Teach Me Tonight. The car doesn't crash. Jess doesn't go back to New York.
1. Chapter 1

"Okay, I guess we really should get back."

Rory blinked, rocketing back into reality at the change in Jess' tone - from excited ranting to warm acceptance. "Oh, wow! Late," she realized.

"Want me to drop you off, Cinders?"

"This is my car."

"I know, I'll walk back to Luke's - it's not far."

"You don't have to do that."

He shrugged. "I'm not in a rush."

"Okay then - drive, Parker!"

"Whatever you say, Penelope."

Rory let herself sink into the leather at her back; a fervent smile curled at the edges of her lips. She cast a coy glance across the small distance between them. Jess looked warmer, more genial, under the cool streetlamps than she could ever remember seeing him. He seemed content. Rory let her eyes close for a moment, soaking up the happy, unexpected atmosphere.

"Aurora, wake up - you still gotta get- _whoa_!"

The world shifted violently beneath her. Rory's eyes flew open as the force endeavored to throw her into Jess. She heard him curse sharply, spinning the wheel in a fierce attempt for control. A shrill, feline, cry resounded beside them, tyres screeched against the road, Rory gasped - high and breathless.

Finally the car came to a stop; turned around from how it should be, but undeniably in one unharmed piece. Rory could feel her seat belt too tight against her chest; a shallow bruise was forming between her breasts. She had been thrown backward into her seat, lungs flat against the back of her ribs; her breathing was ragged and hiccuping as she tried to fill them back up.

Jess was silent, hands - with white knuckles - shaking on the steering wheel.

Rory spluttered as she finally drew enough air into her body for sound. The noise snapped Jess into motion as though someone had tugged marionette strings attached to his spine.

"Rory." His voice had a frenetic quality to it that didn't sit well with the laconic persona he generally presented. "Rory - you okay?" He leaned over her - pulling his own seat belt to the hilt - his right hand gripping her shoulder.

She swallowed hard, nodding, raising her chin to look at him with wide, fragile eyes. "Did we hit it?"

Relief deluged his features; Jess physically deflated as he sank into his seat, his hand slipping down her arm until it held Rory's elbow. "I don't think so, roadkill doesn't make that much noise."

Rory nodded, relieved. They sat silently for a moment, trying to regroup. Suddenly laughter erupted from Rory's mouth - stuttering and discordant. Jess looked up, surprised, at the sound of it while Rory folded in on herself. Without knowing why he stumbled into his own fit of mirth.

"Oh God," she gasped, "we nearly crashed - and it was the one time you were actually paying attention to the road. Your hands were at ten and two!"

Jess rolled his eyes. He swung the car backward and slipped them into the right lane. Rory calmed herself as he started back toward her house.

"Jess?" she asked, her voice sober.

"Uh huh?"

"Are you okay?"

He smiled, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "Fine," he assured her, "still beats studying."

Rory was shocked as she asked: "You'd rather we got in an accident than studied?"

"Hey, if no one gets hurt..."

She tried not to smile. "You're impossible."

"And you're home," he replied, killing the headlights and slowing the car to a stop next to Lorelai's jeep. Jess slid out of the car, moving around to the passenger side; he arrived at Rory's door just as she stumbled out. Jess lifted his hand, the keys dangling from his pointer finger; he dropped them into Rory's upturned palm. "Alright, Wedemeyer, you better get inside."

"Yeah, but you're still owe me a thousand words on Shakespeare. We didn't even get through the first act of _Othello_."

"So add it to the list for next time."

She wrapped her arms around her chest and grinned. "Next time?"

He shrugged, his lips tilting upwards.

"Good night, Jess."

"Night, Rory."

She quickly climbed the few steps up to her porch. She stopped with the tips of her fingers on her front door; spinning she watched Jess head back to the diner, fading into the blue-black evening as he got farther away.

The house glowed warmly with thick, yellow light. Rory didn't bother trying to be quiet as she pushed open the door, shutting it firmly behind her. Lorelai was stretched across the couch with her feet tucked up beneath her. Half-empty candy packets littered the furniture and floor around her; the television was a low drone in the background, barely audible.

Lorelai craned towards the door, calling: "Rory, is that you?"

"No, it's your other daughter," Rory retorted, peeling off her coat.

"That can't be right. My other daughter doesn't stay out all night 'studying' with John Bender."

Rory's reply was deadpan: "Ha ha. It's ten-thirty."

"Practically time to get up again, don't bother going to bed, come watch _Masterpiece Theatre_."

"I prefer Alistair Cookie."

"Me too, but look - pretty dresses, petty social obligations, British people, it's almost like spying on my parents."

Rory moved around and wiggled onto the couch next to Lorelai. She propped her mother's knees up onto her thigh and settled in.

"Hey, Dean didn't call."

"Oh, good."

Lorelai quirked a disapproving eyebrow, reaching out to poke Rory in the ribs.

It took a moment for the implication of what she had said to fully register in Rory's mind. Her brow furrowed. "You know what I mean. Not 'good' like I don't want him to call, just 'good' that your steadfast morals weren't compromised by not telling him where I was. I know how much that was bothering you," she teased. Rory patted Lorelai's knees condescendingly as she leaned forward to grab a stray Twizzler from the coffee table.

"So sarcastic; what did I do to deserve this?"

Rory shrugged, nibbling on the end of her candy. "Raised me this way. Okay, I love you." She leaned across for a quick kiss on the cheek, then jumped up from the couch. "I'm going to bed since it's so late and all. I know it's hardly worth it but I'll take those forty winks, even if I only have time for twenty of them."

Lorelai frowned, pouting. She complained: "You never used to be this cruel to me."

"It's that bad crowd I've been hanging out with. Tomorrow I start smoking. Night, mom."

"Night, babe. Remember, if you want kids to think you're cool, don't get the menthols!"

Rory closed her bedroom door behind her, flopping - fully clothed - onto her bed, kicking off her shoes. She was not tired at all. Something burned warm in her gut; it felt the way she thought liquor might, curling in her belly. She thought back over the hours since her mom had left her at Luke's; a smile tugged into the corners of her mouth. It was involuntary.

She knew that she should be shaken up by the accident-that-wasn't, but Rory couldn't clear her head enough for it to be anything other than funny. She rolled her neck back into the pillows, letting her body melt into the bed.

The room was dark and balmy; Rory fell asleep with a giddy lightness expanding in her chest.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh man..." Rory stopped with the pop tart she was holding half-way to her mouth. She stared mournfully at her lopsided car.

Lorelai skipped down the stairs from the porch, still stuffing various necessities for the day into her purse. She spotted Rory and moved to stand next to her, leaning over to get into her eye line. "What're we looking at?"

"She's wonky." Rory gestured to the car with a hand full of pop tart.

"Oh hey, flat tyre. Bummer."

Rory looked up at Lorelai, her lower lip protruding. "Change it for me?"

"We don't have a spare."

"It's in the trunk."

"We don't have a... a jack."

"There's one in the jeep."

"I- am out."

"So, change it, Smokey, and hurry I have to get to school."

"Unless by 'change it' you mean 'call AA' or 'flag down a burly man on the high way' no can do, sweets."

"Mom!" Rory whined.

"When have you _ever _seen me change a tyre?"

"There was that time... and... okay. You know this is losing you serious 'I am woman, hear me roar' points."

"I'm a failure to feminism, but hey I look cute in this skirt, right?"

"Susan B. Anthony called, she's disappointed in you."

"Well, babe, I'd drive you but I have to go meet Sookie and I need the car later."

Rory sighed, dramatically. "It's okay, I'll take the bus."

"Okay, I'll walk you; I'm supposed to be at Weston's, oh, seven minutes ago."

"Guess we're both destined to be tardy today."

Lorelai bumped their shoulders as they headed into town. Announcing breathily: "I'll be on calendars, no problem, but _never _on time. How unfashionable."

Rory rolled her eyes, taking a large bite out of her cooling pop tart. "Alright, Norma Jean."

Jess stepped out of Luke's just as they reached the gazebo. He looked up and seeing Rory across the square, he started to shout: "_Je sollicite votre bouche, votre voix, vos cheveux! Silencieux et affamés, je rôde à travers les rues! Le pain ne pas me nourrir, me perturbe l'aube, toute la journée!_"

Rory squinted for a moment before realization spilled across her face. "Your civil war don't scare me," she called back, happily.

Jess shrugged, fighting back a smile; he turned and headed back inside. He ducked through the diner door just as Taylor marched out of Doosey's - head held high, spine ram-rod straight - in order to find and properly castigate the perpetrator.

Lorelai looked askance at Rory. "Care to share why Jess is shouting at you? And not in English?"

Rory nodded, agreeing: "French, I think."

"And why are you happy that Jess is shouting at you? In French?"

Rory tried to suppress the light, effervescent feeling in her chest; her smile was difficult to contain. "Oh, it's just a thing. Practise."

"Practise for what? The day America finally gets sick of him and we let Europe take a turn?"

"Mom! No, practise for when I'm Christiane Amanpour."

"I don't get it."

Rory's smile was still warm and giddy. "That's okay, it's kinda an in-joke anyway."

"You have in-jokes? You were supposed to be studying. What part of studying involves in-jokes?"

"Oh, the part right before hilarity, a little after mirth. Don't give me the face, we took breaks; nobody studies all night without breaks."

Lorelai's tone was awkward and displeased when she replied: "And now he's shouting at you in French."

"If it helps you could shout at me in French."

She sighed. "It'd take more than one evening of tutoring for me to know that much French. Remind me again why he needs a tutor?"

"Because he's not taking French. And I don't think he actually knows French."

"Hrumph."

"You're so lady-like in defeat." Rory grinned, looping an arm through her mother's as they continued to walk. She snuck a final look back over her shoulder toward the diner, but there was no time for coffee before her bus. At the stop she waved goodbye to Lorelai, took out her bus book, and read three pages in a state of unfamiliar distraction. Finally the bus arrived - halting and sluggish - to transport her to Chilton.

The day seemed arduously long and Rory's mind never quite fought off the fog that had enveloped it that morning. Paris, though loud as ever, sounded far away. Class seemed blurry and unclear, as if her teachers were under water. Lunch vanished.

Before she knew it Rory was back on the Hartford bus, headed toward Stars Hollow, and only a scant few pages further on in her book than she had been that morning.

Climbing down from the bus Rory headed straight for Luke's. The bell jingled as she pushed through the door. She walked up to the counter, hopped up onto a stool and dropped her backpack on the floor by her feet.

It was the quiet before the dinner rush; no one was behind the counter as she looked longingly toward the coffee pot.

Distracted, Jess appeared from the stock room, his attention on the order pad in his hands. He looked up to find the new customer - signalled by the bell - and smirked as he saw Rory perched on the other side of the counter, by the register.

"Hey," she smiled.

"Hey."

"Thanks for shouting at me earlier."

"Any time." Without asking he moved to grab the carafe; he filled an oversize mug three-quarters full with thick, strong-smelling coffee and slid it in front of Rory.

"French? For some reason I figured you would shout at me in Spanish."

"Too easy."

She asked excitedly: "You speak Spanish?"

"I curse in Spanish."

"Oh. So, what'd you say?"

"You mean the private school girl doesn't speak French? What will you do on all those ski-trips and visits to the Louvre?"

She shrugged, nonchalant. "Oh, we hire bilingual guides. No one actually speaks to the commoners."

"My mistake." A small, amused smile flickered over his lips.

"A definite _faux pas_." She took another sip of coffee while waiting for his response. When it became obvious Jess was not going to break the silence, she asked: "You're not going to tell me?"

He leaned further across the counter, suddenly seeming very close. His eyes were framed by thick, heavy lashes. When he spoke he held her gaze. "I crave your mouth."

"Huh?" Rory blinked, dazed. A blush quickly rose to heat her cheeks.

Jess let her flounder for a moment before clarifying: "Neruda."

"Excuse me?" she flustered.

"Pablo Neurda. It's one of his poems."

"Oh. _Oh_." She flushed further, embarrassed by her embarrassment. "But he didn't write in French."

"You can badly translate just about anything on the Internet, you know that?" he teased.

"I thought you didn't like poetry."

"Most poetry," he amended.

Rory nodded mutely, trying to collect herself, and took a long drink of her coffee. She let the caffeine buzz into her blood, calming her. Jess busied himself at the register, sorting through receipts.

Once finished he again leaned on the counter near Rory. "I've got that book."

"What book?"

"History of punk."

"Oh, gimme."

He nodded to the far-left table by the window. "It's over there, knock yourself out."

Rory scrambled down from the counter, swiped the book from the table and headed back to her stool, flicking through it as she walked. "What're you reading right now?" she asked, looking up from the pages.

He pulled a slip-of-a-paperback out from the back right-hand pocket of his jeans and handed that over too.

"_Nine Stories_," she read.

"Salinger," Jess agreed. "You read it?"

She shook her head. "Just _Franny and Zooey_. Is it any good?"

"Yeah, it's short stories but they all kinda come back to each other. You can have it after I'm done."

"Tomorrow at breakfast?"

"Eager?" He took the book from her hands, carefully, and replaced in his pocket.

She shrugged, lightly. "You have good books. Mostly."

"So," he began, "you want something to eat?"

She pulled her attention away from his book to reply: "Oh no, pit stop." She nodded at her coffee. "I'm meeting my mom at home."

"And you can survive until then without food?" he asked, wryly.

"I have Oreos in my backpack."

"Please tell me you don't have the whole box."

She grinned, her face bright. "Mom always taught me a lady should never leave the house without a box of cookies in her purse."

"Terrifying, truly."

She paid no attention to his remark. Instead she closed the book he had lent her and forced it into her cluttered backpack. "So, my little protégé, I have bad news. I can't study tonight."

He looked over from the register where one of the few customers left was squaring up their bill. "Are my abandonment issues showing?"

"It's movie in the square night, and my mom's showing Kirk's film!"

"Kirk made a film?"

"He's the new Asaad Kelada."

"How bad is it?"

"I have no idea. You should come, find out for yourself!"

"No."

Her tone was cajoling: "You're not even a little curious?"

"Not my thing."

"It's not your thing to sit in the back and quietly mock?"

A smile touched his lips. "Okay, that's my thing - still not going."

"One more time I offer you the multitude of mocking possibilities. Mom says he _dances_."

His response was deadpan: "Well, that changes everything."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Fine, be boring." She grabbed her backpack and left a couple of dollars on the counter. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll warn Luke to have pancakes ready."

"Bless you!" Rory slung the straps of her backpack around her shoulders, staggering only slightly under the weight. She straightened up, and bounced cheerfully toward the door.

Jess looked up from the register at the sound of the bell, and watched - across the diner, through the window - until she was gone. He shook his head; the slight smile remaining with him a moment longer than it should.


	3. Chapter 3

"Popcorn?" Rory lifted her head from Lorelai's shoulder, to ask. They were pressed together on creaky, metal folding chairs which had been set out in regimental order — whether or not Taylor measured the distance between each chair had been an earlier discussion topic between the pair — for movie in the square night. The makeshift, open-air theatre was dark and crowded, filled with excited chatter.

"You thought you had to ask?" Lorelai replied, incredulous.

"Right, silly me. I'll be right back."

"Get the large, and make sure they give you extra butter, oh, and —"

"— bring back napkins, I know."

"So well trained."

Rory shook her head and headed across the street to Doose's. The market was full of people grabbing last-minute candy, sodas, and sno-cones. There was a popcorn machine set up for the occasion and Rory waited in line briefly before gathering her spoils to bring back to her mother.

As she reached the first set of chairs in the back, Rory stopped short. "What're you doing here?"

Jess loitered on the fringe of the event. His hand kept ghosting to his pocket; Rory guessed a cigarette or two were probably stashed there. He fingered them unconsciously, as though nervous they might disappear. "Someone told me the next Asaad Kelada was screening a debut."

Rory smiled. "Want some popcorn?"

"Sure."

"So, are you still gonna have that book ready for me tomorrow?"

Jess pulled the paperback from his jeans and handed it over. "Finished it before I came."

"I thought you were working."

"I'm a multi-tasker. Plus, I got through like fifty pages while Kirk was deciding between wheat and rye."

"How efficient."

"I thought so."

"Well, thanks."

"So, what about you?"

"Excuse me?"

"What're you reading? You know, along with every book I own."

"Oh, well, this book called _The Secret History_. It's set at college but it's not like any college story I've ever read; it's perverse and sinister and the more you read the more messed up it gets until you think it just can't get any worse but it is."

"So, good?"

"I'll trade you tomorrow."

"Cool."

"As long as there's pancakes; you promised me pancakes."

"You owe me books."

"I won't have the strength to lift them without pancakes."

"All the way from your bag to the counter?"

"Well after carrying them all the way from home..."

He shrugged. "I can go through your backpack."

"Rude."

"Withholding."

"Pancake-tyrant!"

"Book-hoarder."

She pouted.

"Don't." He rolled his eyes.

Her bottom lip stuck out a little more.

Jess shook his head. "You look ridiculous."

Rory widened her eyes; clear blue stared out at Jess.

"Luke will make you pancakes, you know this."

"Then crisis averted."

"You know it's cause he runs a business where we feed people and not because you did that ridiculous pouty thing, right?"

"Shush." Rory held her index finger up to her lips. "Kirk's film is starting."

"God help us."

Rory grabbed the sleeve of Jess' button-down, and pulled him to a seat in the sparsely populated back row. He rolled his eyes but followed her without resistance, snagging a handful of popcorn as they sat.

The dim monochrome of Kirk's picture made the square seem darker. Rory could feel Jess' arm resting close to her own. She could faintly smell the mix of soap, and Axe, and tobacco that clung to him; it was subtle and had become comfortingly familiar.

Rory sank back in her chair — her shoulder now pressed against Jess — as she got comfortable for the movie. Jess leaned in to whisper a derisive comment in her ear as the main movie started showing and all thoughts of finding Lorelai to deliver the popcorn were completely banished from her mind.

"Hey sweets, where's the horrible emergency that pulled you away from fetching popcorn for your poor, weak mother? Oh, hey... Jess." Lorelai stopped abruptly as she noticed the boy next to Rory. She asked pointedly: "Where's Dean?"

Rory's head snapped up at the sound of her mother's voice. The credits were rolling onscreen. "Oh, he doesn't get back 'til tomorrow."

"I thought you said today. Figured you might have run into him, gotten distracted."

"Nope, tomorrow. I did run into Jess though."

"Excuse us." Lorelai's tone was curt and she set her hands firmly on Rory's shoulders, leading her away from the rest of the movie goers.

"Bye, Jess," Rory mumbled over her shoulder as she was dragged from the town square.

"What was that?" Lorelai hissed.

Rory's eyebrows shot up in confusion. "What?"

"You just went to see a movie with _Jess_. I didn't see you all night — I thought you were with Dean."

"I was on my way back when Jess showed up and he had said he wouldn't so I said 'hey', we were just talking, I guess I didn't notice how long. Sorry about the popcorn."

"You invited Jess to a movie?"

Rory frowned, thrown off-balance by the anger in her mother's tone. "No. Well, kind of, we were supposed to study tonight. Anyway it's a town thing, he lives in town, he's invited by default not specifically by me."

Lorelai was unconvinced. "Sure."

"I don't know what your problem with Jess is. What has he even done in the last few months except loan me books and get you coffee?"

"I don't know — that's the point, I don't know what he's done but I'm sure he's doing it! And that attitude? Just _ergh_. Plus he's failing school so badly that he needs you to take time away from your own, _very important_, studies to bail him out. That doesn't scream 'kind of guy I want my daughter hanging out with'. Plus, babe, you already have a boyfriend."

"I know I have a boyfriend, and you're saying if Dean needed help in school you wouldn't want me to date him anymore?"

"No, it's the big picture, babe. And who said anything about _dating_ Jess?"

"What? I didn't. I said Dean!"

"Yes, but why are you even making that comparison?"

"Because, because the only other people I know have been in town since I was in kindergarten," Rory spluttered.

"It was just a weird thing to say if you're not thinking of actually dating Jess. Which you'd better not be unless you're planning on giving me a heart attack."

"I'm _not _— me and Jess are just friends, sort of. This is an old conversation, Mom. I just, I don't get why you have to make such a big deal every time I speak to him. He works at Luke's and if you haven't noticed we spend a lot of time there. I don't know why being polite to him is so bad."

The umbrage in Rory's tone caused Lorelai to pause. After a moment she backed down. "Okay, okay — rant over?"

Rory shrugged agreeably.

"Since when are you all about the underdog anyway?"

"I don't know. I just think he got sent to Stars Hollow for a second chance and we should at least let him have it. Y'know, we don't know what his life was like before."

"Oh! The guilt trip, right through the heart!"

Rory crossed her arms over her chest. "Hey, you had Mia."

"Are you comparing me to Jess?" Lorelai's face was horrified.

Rory nodded, matter-of-fact. "Yes."

"I have this sharp pain in my ribs, feels like it's coming from the back," Lorelai wailed.

"You two are so alike I'm shocked you don't turn up places in the same outfit."

"Now that's just cruel — take it back!"

"Nope. In fact you guys have a lot of the same band shirts, and you both wear jeans a lot."

"Oh God, stop ruining everything I love!"

"Plus you both have the whole teenage rebellion, issue with authority thing, and you don't get on with your parents, oh, also, I've seen pictures of you in the eighties — you had big hair, so you've got that in common —"

"_Rory_, you're killing me here."

"Hey, maybe _you _should date Jess."

"_My ears_!" Lorelai slapped her palms over her ears.

"I'll stop if you promise to be nice the next time we see him."

"Yes! Anything!"

Rory grinned giddily. "That was fun."

Lorelai pouted, sobered by Rory's mocking. "I'm traumatized," she griped.

Rory looped her arm through Lorelai's. "Let's go home. I'll make the pop tarts, you can recover."

"Cherry?" Lorelai perked up.

"If there's cherry they're all yours!"

"Okay." Lorelai pulled some candy out of her coat pocket. "Red Vine?"

"Yum! Oh, oh, did you remember to swipe Kirk's movie?"

"Right here — this is never leaving our house again. I'm calling my lawyer on Monday to bequeath this tape to you in my will."

"Morbid... but, yay tape!"

"That's the spirit! Now I want you to play it at the wake. I think the black and white really works for such a somber occasion."


	4. Chapter 4

The street was dark and quiet. Rory sat at a table near the counter — surrounded by books, and pens, and color-coded charts. Empty dishes were strewn among the mess with only the faintest remains of the pie Luke had pressed on her before retiring upstairs for the night. A depleted cup sat by her elbow, and across the room Jess was filling the coffee filter dangerously full.

"You sure you want water in this?" he asked. "I could just mix it into a paste and give you a spoon — probably faster."

"Ew." Rory scrunched up her face. A moment later the expression lifted to one of excited revelation. "Ooh, maybe if you made a sandwich with cookies..."

Jess made repulsed sound and continued prepping the coffee. "Trying to leave a good looking corpse behind?"

"Oh, sure, Philip Morris."

Jess moved sleekly around the counter and leaned across Rory to retrieve her mug. His chest brushed up against her shoulder; his hair almost grazed the tip of her nose. Rory's breath caught and pulled tight in her chest. As he moved away she felt her lungs unspool inside her.

He spoke as he walked: "A caffeine-induced heart attack will take you out before I get lung cancer."

"Cheery." She accepted the mug he handed back to her — now teeteringly full — and lifted it toward him in a toast, before taking a large, deliberate gulp.

Jess shook his head in response, and sat back down across from her.

"So, Mister, where's my essay on the Baird?"

"I was making coffee for you!"

"Jess! We've been here for _three _hours. Two of those the diner has been closed and one even Luke's been upstairs for. I took away all recreational books, a pack of gum, and the pen that has Snoopy floating around in it — you had no distractions!"

"Trying out for the Stopwatch Gang? I hear they still need a third now Reid's back inside."

"Be serious," she pleaded.

"No, thank you."

"Fine. I'll go."

Jess leaned back in his chair, nonchalantly, until the front two legs popped off the floor. He let them smack back down and scooped up Rory's backpack, from under the table, just as she reached for it. "What'd'you want to know?"

"Give me my back pack."

Their faces were close together. Jess pulled the bag away, holding it behind the back of the chair he was currently occupying. "Seriously, Rory, what do you want to know? So, I didn't write it down — ask me something. Pop quiz — those are all the rage, right?"

Rory's face was pinched in frustration as she demanded: "What year did he die?"

Jess didn't flinch as he answered: "1616."

"Name a comedy."

"As You Like It."

"Quote from that play?"

"'Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.'"

Rory's expression tightened. "Character the quote is attributed to?"

"Rosalind."

"How many plays in the first folio?"

"Thirty-six."

Her voice was exasperated: "How do you know all this?"

He shrugged. "Read it somewhere."

She blew out a frustrated breath, throwing her hands in the air. "You make me so mad!"

"Excuse me?"

"Can you even hear how smart you are? You have a freakin' photographic memory or something, Jess. It must take actual _effort _for you to be doing so badly!"

"So I memorized some stuff, it's not like —"

"You don't need me! You're wasting your time; you're wasting _my _time!"

"You help me focus," he admitted.

"What?"

"It seems pointless, y'know? And the combined teaching ability in that building — about the same as a bag of rocks. I know I'm not going to college; they know I'm not going to college, somewhere in that thick skull of his Luke knows I'm not going to college. So why bother?"

"Because you _can_."

"That's it. I know you're gonna kick my ass if I don't do this stuff. No one else will. Who gives a damn if I graduate or not, right?"

"My nagging is your Ritalin?"

He shrugged. "Something like that."

"And _I_ give a damn."

"I can see that."

"So you'll make an effort?" she asked, sliding back into her seat.

"Hey, I'm not about to don tights, but I can probably quote the rest of that play for you."

"Okay. So, math."

Jess leaned his forearms on the table between them. "Don't need math, I already know how to make correct change."

"The SAT is half math," Rory pointed out.

"The SAT is for people going to college."

Rory swatted his arms away from the papers spread out in front of them. She laid a number two pencil neatly next to him, and pulled a worksheet of equations from the organized chaos piled on the table. "The SAT is for people who have the option of going to college — and half of it is math, so I hope you like integers."

He rolled his eyes, sighed heavily, and started to complete the worksheet; he pressed much too hard on the paper with the pencil lead, she could see the whole thing bend in his hand. He snuck a glance up through his lashes and caught her watching him.

"What?" He quirked his eyebrows in question.

She shook her head a little, flustered. "Nothing. I — I didn't say anything. Back to work!"

"Uh huh." He turned back to his work, continuing to violently answer the questions.

Rory cracked open a book, trying very hard not to stare at Jess while he was quiet and focused. He was flying through the equations; she had a feeling there wouldn't be many mistakes for her to correct. The adrenalin from her previous outburst simmered low inside her. It made Rory feel too alert. The book she had opened wasn't for school — she knew she could never focus on something academic — but the printed words made her eyes itch, as though they were restless.

The low graphite scratch of Jess' pencil on college-ruled paper and her own breath were all Rory could hear. The rhythm seemed staccato and out of time, too fast.

Her heart jumped as something hit the table.

Jess was eight-tenths done with the list of math problems. He had lightly tossed his pencil into the center of the table, leaning back in his chair. "Break time."

Rory frowned at him. "Generally you have to do something for an extended period of time before you can call stopping 'a break'."

"Define 'extended'."

"You're almost done, just finish this page."

"No can do."

"Jess!"

"Union rules."

"I thought mom's attention span was bad. Fine, take a break. Oh, and some more coffee, please."

Jess glanced at his watch. "When are you planning on sleeping, next week? It's twelve-thirty and you've had four cups an hour."

"What?"

He waved the mostly-empty coffee cup in front of her face. "You're now seventy percent coffee."

"No, what time is it?"

"Twelve-thirty," he repeated

"Oh God, I've got to get home!" Rory began throwing books, and charts, and pens into her backpack.

Jess piled some of the papers on the table to make them easier for Rory to grab. "Right."

She panicked: "I'm so late. Where's my pager. Have you seen my pager?"

He inclined his head, palms up. "Nope."

"Where _is _it?" She scrabbled through her backpack, unable to find anything in the mass of papers.

Jess leaned against the counter. "You wanna call your mom? We got a phone right there."

Rory looked up. Jess' face was shadowed in the dim lighting, but she could swear he looked disappointed. She pulled the zipper round on her bag and hoisted it over one shoulder. "No, no, I should just get back."

"You need me to walk you?"

"It's Stars Hollow — you're responsible for one hundred percent of our criminal activity in the last year."

"'Kay." He nodded, keeping his head down. "Well, thanks Teach."

She stopped at the door, her panic momentarily forgotten; a smile flickered on the lips. "Goodnight, Jess."

She ran up the street, and Jess locked the door. He turned back to survey the chaos still left on their table, shook his head, and walked upstairs.


End file.
